


dance me to the end of love

by renhyuck (thereisnoreality)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, The Civil War, like the actual war, they like Love love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnoreality/pseuds/renhyuck
Summary: Chenle mirrors his smile. “Your selfishness gave me the loveliest sight of my life. I hardly resent you for that.”“The mountains?” Donghyuck asks playfully. And for a second, under the blanket of Chenle’s laugh, under the warmth of his hands holding tight to Donghyuck’s, Donghyuck forgets about the fear that surrounds him.“The sight of you in the morning,” Chenle breathes.





	dance me to the end of love

**Author's Note:**

> i'm going to say sorry in advance. i wrote this in twelve hours because the words knifey chenhyuck were pushed into my mind and didn't leave. there's not an abundance of knives in this, but there is a great deal of sadness. 
> 
> this is set during the civil war but I didn't do much research so a lot of it is very handwavey and vague, please do forgive me my laziness. 
> 
> you should absolutely listen to You Are My Sunshine by The Civil Wars while reading this and also try not to be too delighted imagining donghyuck with a southern drawl as I was

 

_April, 1862_

_Virginia_

 

It had been a year of waking up in fear.

Donghyuck lays in bed, still as he can be to not wake the person beside him, and listens to the birds outside the window. The sweet chirping does nothing to soothe the fear building in his heart. A year of fear. Donghyuck was sick of it, sick of waking up every morning trembling in terrible anticipation until he could make his way down to the letterbox at the end of their property, hoping, praying to all the gods he didn’t believe in that there wouldn’t be a white, embossed letter waiting in their mailbox. The war had carried on for so long and there hadn’t been a day Donghyuck had woken up wishing it was wasn’t over.

Not even half an hour later, the body next to him shifts and Chenle’s inky hair slides out from under the covers, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning,” Donghyuck says, amused despite himself. Chenle casts a bleary eye at him, before groaning and dropping his head back on Donghyuck’s chest, curling an arm around his body and pulling him close.

“Too early,” he mutters, sluggishly, burying his face in the rough linen of Donghyuck’s nightshirt. “The rooster hasn’t even crowed yet.”

“He did a while ago,” Donghyuck murmurs, running his fingers gently through Chenle’s hair, untangling the strands. “You slept right through it.”

Chenle mutters something incomprehensible and drifts right back to sleep. Donghyuck watches his body relax into the sheets, face slackening and sighs. The fear returns as soon as Chenle falls back asleep as if Chenle’s voice had been the only thing to keep it at bay. Donghyuck tilts his head back to stare at the wooden ceiling and takes a deep breath. He knows that there will soon be a time when even Chenle won’t be able to soothe his mind. One year had never felt longer.

 

_October, 1858_

_Georgia_

 

Donghyuck moves through the murmuring crowd, smiling genially at every glance thrown his way. The glitter from the chandeliers sparkles down on the occupants of the ballroom, washing away all the ugliness that festers underneath the chiffon skirts and pressed tuxedos. Not that Donghyuck can hold his head very high in that regard, he is here after all.

“-there’s a war coming, no doubt about it.”

Donghyuck turns his head slowly, so as to not draw attention to himself and tries to catch the source of the conversation.

“You always speak of such dour things,” another voice says, high and lilting. “Such dark topics aren’t fit for a party like this, General.”

Donghyuck’s eyes catch on a figure speaking to a man dressed in military garb. His eyes are sparkling as bright as the lights and he drains the glass in his hand without much circumstance.

“Dark as they may be, they must be spoken about, Master Zhong,” the General comments. Donghyuck drifts closer, his curiosity growing. “When we are stripped of our rights, who then will speak up?”

Zhong hums, his eyes darkening. “Interesting is it not? How we barter for our rights when holding such a tight leash on others’?”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. There was nothing subtle about that remark. The General seems to realise the same thing and he straightens his shoulders, tilting his chin up. Donghyuck can’t see his face but he would imagine it’s not a pleasant sight to be on the other side of.

“These are dangerous times, Master Zhong,” The General rumbles lowly and Donghyuck shivers despite himself. “Far too dangerous to be bandying about words that would cast an… unfavourable opinion on your family’s name.”

Zhong’s smile becomes fixed. “My family is far across the oceans, General. I’d warrant they care little of what their name becomes associated with in the West.”

There’s a pause and then the General nods. “I’m afraid I have many others to meet today. It was a…It was wonderful to speak with you again Master Zhong.”

Zhong nods back pleasantly. “Always a pleasure, General,” he says. Donghyuck watches him for a while longer, watches the way his smile fal.ls and his hand clenches around the stem of the champagne glass, before making his move

“You might be the first man I’ve seen not quail under that glare,” Donghyuck murmurs, sidling up to Zhong, keeping his voice pleasant and low, dropping under the tinkling laughter washing around them. “The General is a terrifying man.”

“He’s a bully,” Zhong remarks darkly, making to take another sip of his drink before realising it’s empty. His look of confusion makes Donghyuck laugh.

“Here.” Donghyuck gestures to a waiter, two fingers lifted in the air, and plucks the glass from Zhong’s unresisting fingers to replace it with a full glass. Donghyuck turns back to him, his own glass full. “You’re very bold to say such things at an occasion like this.”

Zhong eyes him. “There are a hundred parties like this every month in this town. The elite have nothing better to do than to waste their money and cry about war. And so I have nothing better to do than to listen to their vitriol.”

Donghyuck smiles. It seems that this night wouldn’t be as dry as he’d first imagined. “I thought you said war was far too dour a topic for nights like these.”

“Ah, so you were listening,” Zhong eyes him.

Donghyuck allows himself a small smirk, hiding it behind the rim of his glass, though it does not go unnoticed by Zhong, if the way his eyes lighten is any indication. “Your voice carries. I could not help myself.”

Zhong laughs, a short, sweet sound that lifts above the base noise level and carries into the rafters. “So I’ve been told.” He offers a hand to Donghyuck. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.”

Donghyuck takes it. “Donghyuck Lee,” he says. “I should be the one saying that. You are the newcomer around here are you not?”

“Chenle Zhong,” Zhong says, tipping his glass in acknowledgment. “Am I still considered a newcomer? It’s been a year since I made port on this side of the world.”

“Ah, faces like ours are always considered newcomers,” Donghyuck says with a wry twist of his mouth. “Georgia has been my home for more than two years, Maine for two decades more than that, and still, I am treated as if I arrived on a ship yesterday. But treating you as such is not so much a matter of your residency as it is the way you carry yourself.”

A little sparkle comes back into Zhong’s eyes and Donghyuck delights at it. “And what is that way, Mr. Lee?”

“Donghyuck, please,” Donghyuck says. It’s far too soon to allow Zhong the familiarity of his first name but Donghyuck doesn’t care about the impropriety of it. The prospect of Zhong’s friendship is too tempting a thing to let go. He glances at Zhong, making sure his following words would not be unwelcome before continuing. “You are unafraid, Master Zhong. That is what makes you so peculiar. Fear has been a permanent ghost in Georgia for a very long time and you are an exception to that.”

“Call me Chenle,” Zhong says, draining his glass for a second time since Donghyuck had seen him that evening. As Donghyuck nods in quiet acknowledgment, Zhong regards him thoughtfully. “I think you give me too much credit, Donghyuck. I am hardly unafraid.”

Donghyuck smiles, pleased at the use of his given name. It sends a pleasant warmth running down his back, as if he’d sunk into a particularly warm bath after a long day. “Maybe not unafraid,” Donghyuck murmurs. “But an exception, nonetheless.”

The way Chenle looks at him stays with Donghyuck long after he’s left the party, following him home until he’s laying in bed, heart pounding so loudly in his chest, he fears that the walls may wake up from the sound.

 

 

_July, 1862_

_Virginia_

 

The war carries on and Donghyuck’s fear only grows.

“Donghyuck. Donghyuck!”

Donghyuck turns, dropping the bowl he’d been holding, surprise holding his heart hostage for a second. Chenle is standing in the door to parlor, a worried look creasing his face. “You scared me,” Donghyuck says, breathless and stoops to pick up the bowl. There’s a small chip on the rim, but it’s nothing that cannot be hidden by merely turning the bowl around on the shelf.

“I’d been calling your name for a while,” Chenle says, frown still on his face. “You were lost deep in thought.”

“Oh, well.” Donghyuck places the bowl on the shelf, and turns back to Chenle. “What did you need?”

Chenle waves this away, and moves closer to Donghyuck. “It was nothing important.” He clasps Donghyuck’s hands in his own, drawing them closer to each other. “Where did you go in your head?”

Donghyuck tries for a smile but it does nothing to ease the worry carving into Chenle’s face, into his eyes. “Nowhere important,” he whispers, echoing Chenle’s words. “I was merely thinking.”

“Of?"

“Things that are far too troublesome to speak aloud.”

Chenle’s face eases a little but he looks no less sadder. “Dearest,” he says, holding Donghyuck’s hand up to his face, pressing his lips gently into the back of Donghyuck’s hand. “What comes will come. Worrying about it will do you no good.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Donghyuck breathes and his voice sounds thin already, on the verge of breaking under Chenle’s gaze. “How am I to not think about the war? When it looms on our doorstep every day? How am I to not think about you leaving me? When your draft letter could come any day?” Chenle smiles, sad and beautiful and Donghyuck presses his eyes close to steady himself. The thought of Chenle going away to war, of killing someone when he’d never even touched a gun before in his life was more than Donghyuck could bear. Especially when his parents had paid for him to be exempt from the draft in their own desperation. Especially when neither he nor Chenle had that kind of money to do the same for him. Chenle’s still watching him and Donghyuck ducks his head. “You must think I’m ever so selfish.”

“I have never thought anything of the sort,” Chenle says in quiet indignation. “You are the least selfish person I know.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Hardly.”

“You brought me up here,” Chenle reminds him. “You helped me escape and brought me to your home.”

“Our home,” Donghyuck corrects him, a wry twist to hs lips as he continues. “And that was perhaps the most selfish thing I’ve done; spiriting you away from the south to make you mine.”

Chenle mirrors his smile. “Your selfishness gave me the loveliest sight of my life. I hardly resent you for that.”

“The mountains?” Donghyuck asks playfully. And for a second, under the blanket of Chenle’s laugh, under the warmth of his hands holding tight to Donghyuck’s, Donghyuck forgets about the fear that surrounds him.

“The sight of you in the morning,” Chenle breathes and pulls one hand away from Donghyuck’s to gently cup his face, to pull him closer and kiss him, sweeter than honey, softer than the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Donghyuck closes his eyes and holds him close, soaking in the memory and trying to engrave it in the back of his mind.

 

 

_February, 1859_

_Georgia_

 

It’s blustery winter afternoon in Georgia and Donghyuck is regretting stepping foot outside his house to go retrieve his letters from the town post office. His mother’s sweet words, having travelled all the way from Maine, soothe the chill fractionally, but Donghyuck still hurries down the busy street, eager to reach the warmth of his home.

“Mr. Lee!”

Donghyuck glances up to find Chenle waving at him from the opposite side of the road. Donghyuck waves back and watches as Chenle waits for a break in the traffic to cross the street, hands shoved into his coat pockets.

“Chenle,” Donghyuck greets, quietly delighted at Chenle’s presence. “I thought I told you to call me by given name.”

“I thought you would find it odd if I called your name across the street,” Chenle explains, a flush decorating his cheeks. Donghyuck finds it more attractive than he articulate. “Are you in the middle of an errand?”

“My schedule is wide open,” Donghyuck says, casting a smile at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I meant to call upon you after our last meeting, but it seems time has slipped by me,” Chenle says. “Oh, a new bookstore!”

Donghyuck follows his point. “Yes, they opened yesterday, I haven’t had the chance to take a look around."

Chenle’s eyes shine. “Would you like to now?”

A feeling of fondness crashes onto Donghyuck, pulling him off to sea, helpless and wondering. “I can think of no way better to spend the afternoon.”

 

 

The bookstore is a beautiful little thing, hanging off the corner of James St., at the perfect angle that, in the mid afternoon sun, the shop is filled with warm sunlight.

“Oh this is wonderful,” Chenle breathes, running his hands delicately over the spines, his eyes alight. He looks at Donghyuck. “I find that there is nothing better than the smell of books. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“They do possess a certain charm,” Donghyuck agrees, watching him. “The magic to bring you a feeling of nostalgia.”

Chenle brightens. “Oh, yes, you put it into words.” He leads them to the back corner of the store where there squishy armchairs and low tables. “How lovely. I could sit here all day and read and I don’t think I would ever tire.”

“Well,” Donghyuck says. “Let’s do that then.” He glances at Chenle. “Or was this meant to be a short courtesy call?”

“Believe me,” Chenle murmurs, moving past Donghyuck to pluck a book of verse off the shelf behind him. Donghyuck blinks up at him, suddenly far too aware of their proximity. Chenle is fractionally taller than him and Donghyuck swallows around nothing. “Nothing concerning you was ever meant to be simply courteous.”

“Why, Master Zhong,” Donghyuck whispers, coy and arch. “How forward of you.”

 

 

Time seems to pass slower than molasses falling and Donghyuck drinks in every second of it, greedy and wanting for more and more, uncaring when he gets too full and is fit to burst. They press themselves into the furthest armchairs, away from any prying eyes and reaching ears and spend the whole afternoon passing the book back and forth, reading verses out loud to each other. Chenle has a way with words that makes them dance off the page, makes them hover in front of Donghyuck and sink into his ears until Donghyuck feels dizzy from simply listening to him read.

“You have a wonderful voice,” he says when the truth become too much for him to bear. “I think I could I listen to it forever.”

Chenle flushes, slowly lowering the book to his lap. “Oh.”

“Was I too forward?” Donghyuck asks, worry scraping up his insides.

“Hardly,” Chenle says, a sweet smile springing to his face. “I was just about to say the same to you.”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to pinken. “Oh.” He looks down shyly. “Well. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Donghyuck.”

When Donghyuck glances back up, Chenle is beaming at him, smile strong enough to rival the sun pouring in behind him.

  
  


_December, 1859_

_Georgia_

 

When Donghyuck opens the door, Chenle is standing on his doorstep, a flush in cheeks, holding a massive wreath in his hands.

“Merry Christmas!” He cheers as Donghyuck steps aside to make room for him. “Oh.”

Donghyuck turns with him to drink in the sight that greets Chenle in the entryway: trunks piled up on each other, boxes full of Donghyuck’s life in Georgia, all packed away into their smaller units.

“You’re leaving,” Chenle breathes and his expression cuts Donghyuck to the core.

“It was a very quick decision,” Donghyuck says, taking the wreath from his hands. “You’re early, by the way. Christmas isn’t for another week.”

“I wanted to spend it with you,” Chenle says, distracted, as he stares at the packed remains of Donghyuck’s life. “But I didn’t want to impose on plans you may have already agreed to. _Why_ are you leaving?”

Under Chenle’s earnest gaze, Donghyuck quails. “My parents are anxious,” he murmurs, taking one of Chenle’s gloved hands in his own. “The South grows increasingly restless every day, and I am not eager to be on the wrong side when the war finally starts.”

“You’re going to the North?” Chenle asks and his tone is no less than devastated. “To Maine?”

“Virginia,” Donghyuck says. “My family owns a farm near the mountains. It’s been untouched for years, but it will provide a home for me.”

“Oh,” Chenle says and when he looks at Donghyuck, his eyes are filled with tears.

“Chenle,” Donghyuck says, shocked and the wreath drops from his fingers, landing unceremoniously on the floor.

“I-” Chenle starts, blinking rapidly. The tears cling to his lashes and drip down his cheeks. “Forgive me, I did not mean- I do not mean to make a scene.”

“Oh, please don’t cry,” Donghyuck says helplessly. He brings a hand tentatively to cup Chenle’s cheek, hesitating to make contact. Chenle makes his decision for him and moves into the touch, trembling. “Dearest, I did not mean to make you shed tears over me.”

“It’s silly,” Chenle sniffs and Donghyuck brings his other hand up, smoothing away the tears. “I should not be crying so, not when you are the one uprooting your whole life.”

“My life is nothing without you,” Donghyuck murmurs and Chenle lets out a quiet sob. “I’m sorry for doing this to you.”

“I am being absurd,” Chenle says pitifully, staring at Donghyuck with doe-like eyes. “But I’m afraid I do not know how to stop.”

“You don’t have to,” Donghyuck says and presses himself close to Chenle, until his tears drop down onto Donghyuck’s neck, hot and searing.

 

 

They relocate to the parlour in the middle of all of it, and Chenle presses his face into Donghyuck’s neck, his hands wrapped tightly around Donghyuck’s.

“I did not anticipate crying so much,” Chenle says, when he has ceased crying and his voice has gained a little of its strength back. He pulls back to look at Donghyuck. “But it seems my heart is fonder of you than I realised.”

Donghyuck gazes at him in sorrow. “My dearest,” he murmurs, cupping Chenle’s cheeks in his hand, thumb sweeping at the dried tear tracks. “You have no idea how much it pains me to leave you.” He takes a breath, hesitating over his next thought. “You could come along with me.”

But even before the words have left his mouth, Chenle shakes his head. “I could not do that to you,” he says, voice firm. “I will not become a burden upon your family.”

“It is no burden when I love you,” Donghyuck presses but Chenle shakes his head again.

“I will not, Donghyuck,” he says, hands coming up to encase Donghyuck’s. “Besides, I am happy here, in Georgia. And my family is too far away to have any concern over me.” He smiles, eyes creasing in happiness for the first time since he’d stepping foot inside Donghyuck’s apartment that afternoon. “And knowing you are safe will be enough for me.”

“Dearest,” Donghyuck says, his voice trembling now. “I can’t bear to leave you behind.”

“I know,” Chenle says. “But for now, will you permit me a kiss? To ease my troubled heart?”

Donghyuck stares at him, his own heart thundering in his chest. “You need not even ask,” he says, sadness ringing in every syllable. “All of me belongs to you.”

When their lips meet, it tastes of salt and desperation.

 

 

 

_November, 1862_

_Virginia_

 

The letter arrives precisely a fortnight before Thanksgiving.

Donghyuck thinks his heart stops beating for a full minute when he unearths the letter from the mailbox, turning it’s embossed cover over to see Chenle’s name written in beautiful, black script on the front. “Oh God, please,” Donghyuck whispers turning to the house, his heart suddenly beating faster and faster with ever step he takes. “Please don’t take him from me.”

When he slams in through the door, Chenle is in the kitchen, happily beating eggs into a bowl and Donghyuck’s eyes fill with tears at the sight of his smile. _Please_ , he thinks, casting his thoughts to the heavens. _Please, don’t do this to me. I’ll do anything._

“What’s wrong?” Chenle asks as he turns around, smile falling at the tears falling down Donghyuck’s face. “Donghyuck?”

“Open it,” Donghyuck thrusts the letter at him. “Open it, quickly.”

Chenle’s expression turns somber and he carefully wipes his hands on a cloth before taking the letter from Donghyuck’s shaking hands. The silence is deafening as Chenle carefully splits the envelope open, sliding the letter out. Donghyuck presses his lips together, trying not to sob as Chenle leads line after line.

“Well,” Chenle says, folding the letter back up and putting it back into the envelope, a wry little smile on his face. “We always knew it was coming.”

“Oh, God.” Donghyuck whispers, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop himself from sobbing. “Oh, God. _Chenle_.”

“Don’t cry, Donghyuck,” Chenle says, pulling him into his embrace. “It was always meant to happen.”

“You can’t go,” Donghyuck’s voice cracks. “Chenle I won’t- I _can’t_ do this without you beside me.”

“I have to,” Chenle murmurs, pressing a kiss to Donghyuck’s hair. “I cannot stay behind while the war is fought on our doorstep. I’ll be labelled a traitor."

“You don’t owe this country anything,” Donghyuck gasps angrily through his tears. “You came here five years ago!”

“And I’ve lived here in relative peace ever since,” Chenle refutes gently. “If this is my payment then I will gladly pay it.”

“You’ll _die_ ,” Donghyuck sobs and he feels for the first time, Chenle’s tears dripping down his neck, feels him tremble just as much Donghyuck is. “Chenle- _my dearest_ \- _I don’t want you to die_.”

Chenle just hold him tighter as they sink onto the floor, clutching each other in desperation. “Donghyuck,” Chenle whispers. “Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck.”

“What?” Donghyuck asks. His fingers ache from holding on so tightly but he thinks if he lets go, he’ll shatter apart. “Why are you-”

“I just want to say your name,” Chenle whispers, and his voice cracks. “I just want to hear your name fall from my lips.”

Donghyuck’s cheeks burn from the fresh wave of tears that slide down his skin. _Please don’t take him away from me,_ he thinks. _Please. I don’t have anything left but him._

 

 

 

_January, 1860_

_Georgia_

 

The mob has covered half the town in flames. Donghyuck watches from a safe distance, atop the hill, watching the little bookstore he’d so loved burn to ashes.

“Mr. Lee,” Soyeon says, urgency in her voice. “We should go before they reach the hills.”

Donghyuck turns to her with a smile. “Yes, we should.” He turns back to the town, casting a glance down the hill and making a decision in a split second. “Right after I collect something.”

“What could you possibly need at this time?” Soyeon hisses. “The town is about to collapse under those warmongers. You’ll die if you head down there!”

Donghyuck unbuckles one of the horses and swings himself onto it. “I’m rather willing to take that risk,” he says, spurring the horse into a trot. “I’ll be back in less than an hour.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Soyeon’s voice follows him down the hill.

“Oh well,” Donghyuck mutters to himself, rising higher on the stirrups and nudging the horse faster. “I did say life was nothing without him.”

 

 

Chenle’s residence is on the opposite end of town, away from the mob and Donghyuck is grateful that the stars are on his side for once as he clatters down the street, jumping off the horse before it’s even stopped to knock at Chenle’s door.

“Chenle! Chenle, open up! You must hurry!"

The door slams open. “Donghyuck?” Chenle gasps. “You were meant to be gone by now.”

“I could not just leave you behind,” Donghyuck says, voice high. “The mob is burning the town to ash. You must come with me.”

“Donghyuck I can’t-” Chenle begins but Donghyuck cuts him off.

“No,” he says, and the fear rising in his throat threatens to choke him. “No, you listen to me. You _can_ come with me. You cannot die. I will not be able to bear it.”

“I will not be a burden-” Chenle argues and his eyes widen as torchlights fall onto the cobblestone a street away from them. The mob was close.

“The biggest burden you will give me is the sorrow I will feel at knowing I left my love behind,” Donghyuck cries in desperation. “Please, come with me. Please do not make me grieve for you.”

Chenle stares at him for a heartbeat. It seems to last an eternity. “Very well,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

Donghyuck tugs him into an embrace. “Thank you,” he says, shaking in relief, voice muffled into Chenle’s robe. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Chenle says, tilting Donghyuck’s face up and kissing him, the briefest touch of lips and yet, it sends Donghyuck into a whirlwind of dizziness. “I would have regretted my decision the minute you left my arms.”

 

 

 

_January 15th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_I hope this letter finds you in time for Christmas and I hope it finds you blissfully warm by the firelight. It is dreadfully cold out here, I think the wind has made a permanent home in my bones. The blankets you gifted me have helped much but I think I would not find the warmth I desire with a hundred blankets. It would only come from the warmth of your embrace. Oh, how I long for it._

_They say the war will end by the summer. Isn’t that something? By the time the flowers have bloomed, I will be back with you. Hold onto that hope, my dearest. It is all I’m holding onto. The thought of seeing your smile again is the only thing that drives these weary feet forward._

_Remember how you said you would join me in the army? How we fought over it? I think it was for the best. You would have hated this life. There’s so much smoke from the fires and the snow only makes things worse…_ ~~_But we would have been together._~~ _But I must not keep speaking of such maudlin things. How was Christmas at home? Did you convince Soyeon to make you that raspberry jam you so love?_

_Christmas was a lovely affair down here though, nothing what it would have been like at home. There’s a man by the name of Williams here who carries the most wonderful tune. It reminded me of your voice. You would have sung him back to the barracks with your voice._

_I miss you, dearest. Do keep the fire stoked for me, I’ll be home before you know it._

 

_Yours forever,_

_Chenle_

 

 

_February 7th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

 _How is it that we exist in the same state lines and yet we’ve never felt farther apart? I think it is because we never_ have _been further apart. I dislike the feeling, please return to me as soon as you can and make it go away._

_I heard of the battle on the western side of the mountains. The news reached me long after those poor soldiers had been laid to rest. You must know how I scanned the list of those dead for your name. It scared me more than any other nightmare my mind could conjure up. Is it awful to say I was glad to not see your name there? Awful to thank others to be dead in your place? I hope you do not think lesser of me for writing these words but I find it harder and harder to keep things from you the farther we are apart. I want you to know every thought that crosses my mind. Somehow I convince myself it brings us closer together._

_Your letter did reach me in time for Christmas, though I’m afraid my response might be delayed on it’s way to you. The war will be done by summertime you say? I have already started keeping a count. If you do not return to my arms by the time the trees change colour again, I will be horribly cross with you. And you know what I am like then. It will not be pleasant. Christmas was as nice as it could be without you here. Soyeon did indeed end up gifting me some of her jam. Without you here to hide it from me, I’m afraid I devoured it in a week, but she promised me that when you return, she would make you all the jam you desired, so there is another reason for you to come back, if I am not enough. She also gifted me a puppy, claiming I was lonely._ _~~I must say I agree, though I would never tell her that.~~ _ _I’ve decided to name her Holly and before you can argue about the name, I must inform you that it has stuck and she responds to nothing else._

_Please do stay warm. It pains me to hear of your suffering. I wish every second I was there to alleviate your pain, or at the very least, share in some of it._

_Of course I would have bested him. You have the proper amount of confidence in my voice. Do think of me singing to you when the nights get too long and cold. It is the smallest comfort I can offer you, though I know it will never be enough._

_I miss you more than any words I possess can convey and I yearn for the day we are reunited._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

  


 

_March 1st 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Can you imagine that I was once to let you go? Come to Virginia all on your own? It makes me laugh when I think of you clearing out that old farmhouse all by your own._

_I could never think less of you. You exist on the highest pedestal in my mind, higher than the sun itself. The battle was short and brutal. I will not lie to you - I find it hard as well to keep my thoughts from you, bitter and dispiriting as they are - and I am more than glad for it to be over. I am glad for your letters._

_I have also kept a count of the days left for me back to you. Though they seem to be dragging out longer and longer between each tick mark I make. I shudder at the thought of you being cross with me. Bear with me a while longer, dearest. I shall do my best to return to your arms before fall begins._

_Holly is an awful name. What ever shall we call her during the springtime when Christmas season has long passed? You are not to be in charge of naming anything else we take under our care. I cannot trust your judgement. You are the_ only _reason for me to come back, do not reduce yourself so._

_Is it horribly cliche if I say your letters grant me some comfort? They do, you know. The heavy stone that has permanently lodged itself in my chest during this brutal war seems to disappear when I read your name at the top of the envelope._

_Darling… Please do not cry for me. The teardrops stained the words of your last letter so much I could barely make out your signature. It makes me ache to know I am the cause of your tears._

_Keep smiling, Dearest. I will return to you soon._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Chenle_

 

 

 

_April 22nd, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_The difference between the date your letter was written and the date it landed in my arms was far too large for comfort. I am already drafting a letter to Congress that if they must keep this horrid war going, they could at least better their postal service. I expect an answer from them soon._

_I would have done fine clearing out that farmhouse on my own. You hardly helped anyways. You just stood there and laughed at me while I toiled in the hot sun._

_I miss your laugh. It’s so quiet around here. Holly is the only reason I can’t hear my own blood rushing in my ears. I miss your smile. Sometimes I think of your face before I sleep and it takes me a minute to remember what you looked like smiling. It terrifies me._ ~~_Please come back._~~

_Anything else we take under our care? Are you perhaps wanting a litter of kittens when you return? Or something else?_

_There is nothing cliche about saying so. I am gladder than you know to have my words grant you some cold comfort. The weather is warming up and for that I am glad. You won’t suffer so much in the cold anymore. The fire is still on for you. It will be until you return home._

_I did not mean to cry while writing you. Do not let it linger in your heart, darling. You are not the cause of my tears. This blasted war is._

_Keep laughing. I think if you do, the sound will reach me over the mountains. I shall never stop thinking of you._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

 

 

 

_May 30th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_I expect Congress would be delighted to see your letter. They do have so little to worry about during the war. The springtime is here and with it, my memory of my promise to you. It seems there is no end to this war. Please do not be too cross with me if I take a little longer than previously stated to return to your embrace, but I think I shall take any scolding you have to give me, if it would grant me a momentary look upon your face._

_We are meant to face a large battalion sometime in the next month and so I’m afraid this letter won’t reach you for a while. Stay a little stronger for me yet. Try not to let the sound of your own heart pumping overwhelm you._

_I tried to draw you a portrait of my face to help you remember but I’m afraid I bungled it awfully. I hope you chuckle at it. It scares me as well, that I can wake up in the middle of the night and not remember what your eyes look like when you kiss me. You have the most beautiful eyes._

_I’m afraid I must cut this letter short, I am being called by my commander. Do not peruse the newspapers too deeply, love. I will write to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, I hope you can hear my laugh. It sounds only for you._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Chenle_

 

 

 

_June 14th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_Contrary to your advice, I read the papers until my eyes ached. It was a small price to pay for the relief in my heart when your name did not appear. Your letters, no matter how short they are, or however long they take to reach me, are the truly the brightest spots in my days. You are the brightest thing in my life. It may sound tiresome for me to write it over and over again and it may be tiresome for you to read time and time again but I find myself having to write it again and again. I have to know you know._

_Your portrait was lovely. I laughed so very hard at it and I showed Soyeon as well. She claims you are a much better artist that I give you credit for. I think she is too kind. I wish I could spirit myself to your side, so I could kiss you. So I could remind you what I look like after you have pressed your lips so tenderly to mine._

_The flowers in the garden bloomed fully today. They were later than usual but I think it’s because they were waiting for you. As am I._

_I heard your laugh in a dream and I woke up with tears in my eyes. Do return to me soon, darling. I miss you._

_I miss you._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck._

 

 

 

_July 20th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_More than a month has passed since my last letter and there has been no reply. I do not begrudge you the delay but the worry in my heart will not let me rest until I can read your handwriting again. I heard of the horrid battle in the north, near to where you were stationed. Your name did not appear in the papers, but several others’ did not._

_Please respond to me when you can. I am so scared for you. My dearest, please. Return to me soon._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

 

 

 

_August 17th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_There is still no response from you. I am sick to my bones with fear and worry. Every day I scour the papers for your name._

_I realised something awful last night._ _I ~~f you - heavens forbid -~~ _ _If something were to happen to you, I would never know. We were never registered as kin. There is no one in the world that knows you were mine. No one in the world to inform me_ ~~_of your passing-_~~ _if anything happened to you. Please, come back to me soon so we can rectify this. I dread the alternative._

_Please._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

 

 

_September 23rd, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Dearest,_

 

_It has been six months since your last letter._

_I send this out in the faintest hope that you receive it. Even signing your name on a scrap of paper and sending it to me would ease my heart._

_Please, Chenle. Chenle. Chenle._

_I’m saying your name as I write this. It’s been so long since I’ve said your name. Since I’ve felt those syllables pass my lips. Please. Chenle._

_Chenle._

_Chenle._

_Chenle._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

 

 

 

 

_November 10th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Chenle,_

 

_I can’t live without you. I can’t do it. Please._

 

_Donghyuck._

 

 

_December 18th, 1863_

_Virginia_

 

_Chenle,_

 

_This was the day we first kissed, do you remember? Four years ago. It seems like an eternity now. What I wouldn’t give to return to that moment._

_We held your funeral today. It seems strange to write that out in a letter to you. But I think you should know. Wherever you are._

_I sang for you. I hope you heard it._

_Darling. My dearest. You are the love of my life. I hope you know that. You should, I’ve written it often enough. I’ve said it if often enough._

_The fire is still on at home. I have kept it going every day since you left and it will remain until you are back in my arms._

_I love you. Wherever you are, I love you._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Donghyuck_

 

**Author's Note:**

> the last battle chenle was documented to be in was the second battle of winchester which took place from june 13-15th, 1863. donghyuck was not drafted because there was a rule in the first few years of the war that stated if you paid $300, you wouldn't be drafted. chenle was drafted because he became a citizen soon after leaving china. 
> 
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